


Southern Gentlemen

by koganphrancis



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: An origin story, Fluff, Hunting Animals, M/M, Mentions of War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5891899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganphrancis/pseuds/koganphrancis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An imagining of how Tom Fairfax met the important George Henderson.  (Rating may go up in future chapters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Southern Gentlemen

When Tom Fairfax joined the Confederate States Army, he had no idea what he was getting himself into, he just knew he had to join his southern brethren and send the Yankees back from whence they came.  Sounded easy enough, but when he actually reported to the army, he didn’t know what to do and found himself looking around, all around, like an overwhelmed puppy dropped down in the middle of a city.  He let the butt of his rifle set down on the top of his foot, and his haversack slide off his shoulder and hit the ground.

“You’re gonna wanna keep a closer eye on that,” a voice said from behind him.  Tom glanced over his shoulder and locked eyes with the owner of the voice-they were the bluest blue Tom had ever seen.  The man raised his eyebrows at Tom, rubbing his thumb against the corner of his mouth and then looking down at the bag for a second.  “I’m not kidding, someone’s liable to run by you and snatch that away.”

Tom dipped his knees and scooped the bag back up into his hand by the straps.  He looked back over his shoulder again and nodded and said something softly.

“What’s that, Mumbles?” the other man said.

Tom cleared his throat.  “I said thanks,” he said, a little clearer and louder. 

The other man just sighed.  “Where I come from, you face a man when yer thankin' him, but, whatever, you’re welcome."  He started to walk away.  Tom spun around. 

"Wait!  Er, I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go…” Tom said. 

The other man walked up to him, looking up into Tom’s face.  “You just get here?” he asked.  “Wait, don’t answer, sorry, that was a stupid question, look at you, new clothes, new boots, of course you just got here.  I’m George.  George Henderson.”

“Tom Fairfax,” Tom said shyly, sticking out his hand.  George shook it warmly. 

“Welcome to the Glorious Cause, kid." 

Inevitably, George took Tom under his wing.  He was just that much older, as they discovered one night when they were the last two awake around the fire:

"How old are you, George?”

“Just turned twenty in March.  There’s three that are older than me still at home, plus seven younger, but two of them that’s over eighteen enlisted too.  Daddy figured the army could feed us instead of him, but I’m doing more trappin’ and huntin’ out here for you boys than I ever had to at home.”

“Why aren’t your older brothers in the army?” Tom wondered.

“Cuz they’re bigger.  I mean, their bodies are bigger.  They’re more help on the farm.  Daddy kicked me and the other runts out."  George added a little puff of a laugh at the end, to make it seem like he was joking, but Tom sensed he wasn’t. 

"How old are you, kid?” George asked, more to change the subject than any need to know.

Tom looked into George’s blue eyes, reflecting the flickering flames of the campfire.  He had baldly lied to the Confederate government, but he felt there was no way he could tell a lie to those blue eyes.  It’d be like sinning.  “I, uh, I’ll be eighteen come August.”

George raised his eyebrows and gave a low whistle.  “Seventeen?  And you’re an outlaw?  Never would’ve guessed,” he said.

Tom was worried.  “You’re not gonna tell on me, are you?”

George smiled.  “Relax, kid, your secret’s safe with me.  Besides, if I turned you in they’d send you away, and we can’t have that.”

“We can’t?”

“Naw.  You’re my best friend." 

Tom smiled hugely at that, and kept smiling even after he fell asleep. 

George tried to teach Tom everything he knew, everything he could think of that would help Tom survive.  George already had the feeling the North was more than the Confederacy could handle, but he kept that opinion to himself.  All he cared about was surviving this thing and getting home to his daddy’s farm, and all in one piece if he could manage it.  And now, of course, he wanted Tom to get home when all was said and done too.

"You got a girl back home, George?” Tom asked one day after receiving a letter.  He noticed for the first time George never seemed to get any letters. 

“Naw, I’m related to every female twenty miles in any direction you can take from our mountain ridge back home.  How ‘bout you, you got yourself a sweetheart?” George said. 

“Well, uh, yeah, but, it’s secret,” Tom said, looking down at the envelope in his hands. 

“You are just full of secrets, aren’t you, boy?” George smiled cheekily at him.  Tom jutted out his chin.  “Maybe, but you seem pretty good at finding them all out."  They both stopped and thought about that for a second.  "Uh, she sent a portrait, do you wanna see?”

No, George did not want to see, but he figured it’d cover up whatever just happened, so, “Sure, let me see." 

Tom took the portrait out of the envelope and handed it over.  George looked at it closely.  "Pretty,” he said, handing it back.  “Blonde?”

Tom nodded.  “But not like you.  Her hair’s more gold-like.  Yours is like corn silk.”

George raised his chin up.  “Ah.  And gold’s more valuable.”

“No!” Tom said quickly, and loudly.  “Gold is hard and cold, not soft and…” Tom stopped himself, confused. 

“Did you, ah, ever kiss her?” George asked, unable to help himself.

“I did not!  I am a gentleman!” Tom said indignantly. 

George thought that over.  “I must be a gentleman too.  Course, I never wanted to kiss a lady.”

“I never wanted to kiss Alice, either,” Tom blurted out.  Wait, where did that come from? 

George tilted his head and smiled at Tom.  “Come on, time to practice marching or something.  Put that portrait in your haversack and I’ll see you out there." 

George left their tent with a couple of the other soldiers they shared it with.  Tom sat for a minute, going over what he had just said, what he had tried to say about George’s hair, and what he said about kissing Alice. 

 

One day their captain essentially gave them a few days’ leave.  George and other soldiers had pretty much hunted down every living creature they could in the immediate area, and the captain gave a few trustworthy men permission to go further into the wilderness to try to come back with as much game as possible.  "Take up to five days if you need to,” the captain had said.  “That’s two and a half days out, and two and a half days to get back.  Try not to get caught yourselves,” he told his men, wearily.

The small groups of two and three men set off at the break of dawn.  George told Tom to stick close by him, they had no reliable way of knowing if there were Northern soldiers or spies about.  But as the sun came up and they were further and further from the smells and noises of camp, they realized that the Yankees would be wasting their time if they did have anyone posted in the still, deserted woods.  Tom and even George began to relax and just enjoy being out in the spring daylight, not having to worry about battles or drilling or any of the stresses of warfare. 

George was setting some snares, he figured they could check them on the trip back and hopefully they’d have some rabbits or squirrels caught in them.  He sent Tom off to do the same, and after about half an hour, he caught him up.  George had a big smile on his face.

“Hey, Red, come with me.  Wait till you see what I found."  George led Tom back the way he came.  The trees opened up into a big circle of sundrenched grass.  George led Tom over to the furthest side of the circle, and there in the full sun was a patch of ripe wild strawberries.  Tom’s green eyes were huge as they looked into George’s.

"Strawberries?  I can’t remember the last time I had…” he looked at George a little more closely.  “But I can guess the last time you did,” he laughed, having seen the red stains around George’s lips.

“Hey, had to make sure they were sweet.  No sense in disappointin’ ya if they were all bitter and sour,” George said. 

Tom licked his lips, and George’s tongue darted out and mirrored the action without George even thinking about it.  Tom got down on his knees and gently slid his rifle off his shoulder and set it on the ground, and then picked a berry.  He bit into it and let the juice hit the back of his parched throat.  He moaned in pleasure. 

“Just go easy, okay?” George said.  “Don’t eat too much too fast, we still have a day's walking ahead of us." 

"You gonna lecture me or are you gonna have some more of these?” Tom asked, smiling.  George was down next to him quick as a flash. 

The berries were a lucky find, because the whole rest of the day they didn’t come across anything they could catch for dinner, and they had to settle for munching on the hardtack they had brought with them.  They found a creek to set up next to for the night, so they had clear water to drink.

Late in the afternoon of their second day out, Tom gently plucked at George’s sleeve and pointed.  A doe was standing with a small fawn about fifty yards away from them, and the breeze was blowing their scent away from her.  Tom looked at George with imploring eyes, George was the better shot; Tom wasn’t sure he’d hit her from where they were standing. 

“Tom, if I kill her, her fawn’s too little to fend for itself,” George whispered.

Tom groaned and his stomach gurgled.  “We’ll eat the fawn too,” Tom said.  “We’re _hungry._ "  George took in Tom’s sunken eyes, and his sunken cheeks.  He wasn’t the same boy George had met a few months ago, he was down to just sinewy muscle and prominent bones.  George was used to being hungry, growing up there had never been a way for the rocky mountain soil to give enough nourishment to a family with eleven kids, so he was used to that empty hole feeling in his belly, but Tom was still a growing boy in a lot of ways, and this was the first time in his life he had had to do without.  And he never complained, but with a food source right in front of him, it was just too much.  George’s own gut twisted within him, thinking of Tom suffering, for any reason. 

He scrunched up his eyes for a second, then put the rifle up to his shoulder.  He took the doe down.  The fawn was still so little and dependent it didn’t even run away from its mother’s side when she fell.  George and Tom were able to walk right up to it, and George slit the little fawn’s throat so he didn’t waste a bullet.  Tom blanched seeing the fawn up close and witnessing its death, but he knew George was right about the fawn not being able to fend for itself, it would’ve died anyway, and it would’ve taken longer and it would’ve suffered. 

George had Tom help him string the deer up over a tree branch and drain the blood from it.  He then set to work skinning part of the deer.

"What are you doing?” Tom asked.  “Aren’t we bringing it back to camp?”

George sighed.  “If we take it back to the regiment, we won’t get much of it-if any.  We’d probably get more meat from the squirrels I usually bring in…”

Tom was shaking his head.  “I don’t know, I don’t know if that’s fair.”

“This is a war, Tom, there’s no such thing as fair.  I plan on bringing some back-whatever you and I don’t eat the next couple of days.  But we’re out here, we need to keep our strength up, and…” George let his words trail off.  He was going to add, “I shot this deer for you,” but he didn’t want the kid feeling guilty about it, “you need to eat, we both do,” he said instead. 

Tom’s growling stomach helped him make up his mind.  He set about starting a cooking fire while George cut off some meat for them.  At dinner George tried warning Tom again about not eating too much too fast.  “Your belly’s not used to it anymore.  It’s probably shrunk down.”

Tom couldn’t help it, the fresh meat tasted so good.  But that night when they went to lie down, his stomach was hurting.  George noticed. 

“That’s what you get,” he laughed softly.  “Next time you better listen to old George." 

Tom just groaned and rolled up into a ball on his sleeping roll.  George took pity on him.

"Hey, lie flat for a bit, face down,” he said.  Tom tried stretching out his legs to comply, but his body wanted to stay in a cramped ball. 

“Okay, roll over towards the fire then,” George said, when it became clear Tom couldn’t move much.  Tom did as he was told, and George knelt down beside him and started rubbing gentle, firm circles into the small of his back.  After a few quiet moments, Tom was able to straighten out his legs, and he rolled onto his stomach.  George kept rubbing his back, with both hands now, working out stiffness and kinks that had been set in for months.  Tom watched the firelight dance towards the night sky and relaxed completely.  George’s hands made his skin tingle under his clothes.  He let his eyes droop shut and then next time they opened, it was morning. 

On the walk back, when they got to the creek again, George decided to take a swim.  “Are you mad?” Tom said, when George made his intention known.  “That water’s cold, it’s still spring.”

“If it’s warm enough for strawberries, it’s warn enough for swimmin’,” George grinned, taking off his shirt.  “You can just stand here and watch, if that’s all you’re up for." 

George kept taking off his clothes, and Tom decided he might as well join him.  He turned slightly away from George to get undressed, which was silly, they got undressed and dressed together all the time, but that was in camp, with hundreds of other men around.  This, just the two of them out in the wilderness, seemed different.  Tom heard some splashing sounds and then a big smack and correctly deduced that George had thrown himself into the water.  He gingerly made his way to the creek’s edge and stuck his toes in, but when George’s head popped up out in the middle of the creek he ran straight in, to get himself covered in water as quickly as possible. 

Tom came up sputtering, his teeth chattering, the water was even colder than he expected.  George swum closer to him, smiling. 

"Isn’t this great?  I’ve had dirt stuck between my toes since last summer, it felt like,” he said, floating in a sitting position and letting his toes come up out of the water.  He wriggled them around happily.  “You okay?”

“I’m fre..free…freezing,” Tom chattered out, his body wracked with shakes. 

“You gotta get moving, get the blood pumping!” George told him, planting his feet back on the creek bed floor and dunking Tom by the shoulders.  Tom resurfaced and lunged for George, but he was too quick for him and swam away.  They chased each other about like that for a while, splashing at each other since neither one would let the other one close enough for a dunk again.  Tom forgot all about being cold, and then forgot about trying to dunk George and just started swimming and diving, enjoying the freedom and the cleanliness of it.  

Or so he wanted George to believe. 

Once he had lulled George into a false sense of security, he loomed up behind George where he was standing and jumped so his hands would land on George’s shoulders and dunk him under, but he didn’t take into account the slipperiness of said hands and shoulders and wound up sliding down George’s body fairly quickly, his hands running right down George’s back and momentum stopping them right when they were underwater on George's buttocks.  Tom just froze where he was, noticing how George had just about as many freckles as Tom himself all over his pale skin, each freckle standing out with a clarity Tom had never experienced before in his life.   

George arched his back a little, the flesh of his backside pressing into Tom’s hands even more. 

“Um,” Tom said, but stopped, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“You gonna leave your hands there?” George said, in a tone that Tom had never heard him use before.  His voice sounded thick, like when he first woke up in the morning, but there was something more there too.

“Uh, oh, sorry,” Tom jerked his hands back as if they were on a hot stove.  But still his feet wouldn’t move, and he was standing about six inches behind George.  George slowly turned around.  He scratched under his lower lip with the back of his thumb. 

“Would you mind it, if I kissed you?” George said. 

Tom raised an eyebrow at him.  He didn’t know what he expected George to say, but now that he had said it, Tom thought it over and knew that he wouldn’t mind it at all.  His face was taken over by one of his crooked grins that George found himself thinking of at the strangest times, and he leaned in and placed his lips over George’s.  George puckered his lips, a little late since he had been expecting Tom to answer him, and probably answer him in the negative, but that motion resulted in an equal reaction from Tom, and they both discovered that a kiss feels even better when there’s some movement. 

Tom pulled away first, but placed his forehead against George’s, so he could look right into his eyes.  He smiled again, and George brought up both his hands and placed them on either side of Tom’s neck under his ears. 

“Would you mind it, if I kissed you again?” George asked.

“Please do,” Tom answered, and George pressed his lips to Tom’s.  This time they were both ready and were pleased to find how velvety soft another pair of lips could feel against their own.  Tom licked at the back of his own closed lips to enjoy more of that feeling, and inadvertently broke through the seal of his own lips and touched George’s with his tongue.  George instinctively opened his mouth to let Tom’s tongue in and suddenly the kiss took on a whole new meaning.  Tom put his arms around George to pull him closer and then they noticed more than their noses and cheeks were bumping.  They broke the kiss, and stepped back a bit from each other.

“We, ah, we should get a fire going, and dry off,” George said.

“And set up camp for the night, and cook dinner,” Tom nodded.

“And kiss each other goodnight,” George smiled. 

“And kiss each other good morning,” Tom said.  “But why wait?"  And he kissed George again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank Tumblr users grumpymickeymilkovich, sleepyfaceandsnark, and wroteclassicaly for sparking this idea-I saw their posts about George being portrayed by Noel, since he was obviously so important to-and treasured by-Tom. (If I missed any Tumblr people, please let me know!)
> 
> And after Sunday's episode, I have to thank Cameron/Tom for making strawberries canon :)


End file.
